


We'll Burn This Out

by keepitsweet



Category: Demi Lovato (Musician), Ed Sheeran (Musician)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1863186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepitsweet/pseuds/keepitsweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Um…Are you okay?” he watched her as she nodded her head, but she didn’t stop crying. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head. “Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Burn This Out

He drummed his fingers on the wooded table. He looked at the watch on his left wrist and rolled his eyes.

20:37

If there was something Ed hated was the lack of punctuality.

Well, not always. He didn’t mind if his friends were late. As a matter of fact, it was very rare even for himself to be punctual. But when it came to business meetings he was always on time and couldn’t stand lateness.

She was exactly thirty sev-no. Thirty eight minutes late.

The whole room was silent except for the sound of the rain crashing against the windows.

He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair.

He didn’t even want to be there. The only reason he was there was his manager, who, after talking to her manager, thought a collaboration between the two would attract a lot of attention from fans, the media and music critics.

He didn’t even know her. Well, he knew her. He knew who she was. She was Demi Lovato, an ex Disney troubled star. He had met her before at some teen award show. They talked there for a bit after he presented an award that went to her. That was the only time they’ve ever talked. He just didn’t really know her.

And he knew she knew who he was. She was apparently a huge fan of his, tweeted him a few times about how talented he was and how incredible his music was.  
She was so nice to him that day. She smiled brightly when she walked up the stairs to the stage and he almost forgot who he was and where he was when her scent got caught inside his nostrils after she pulled him into a hug. Then they walked together backstage and talked for a bit.

At first he seemed a bit taken a back by her praise towards him –it wasn’t very often that celebrities came up to him and told him they were “absolutely obsessed with his music” -, he felt flattered. Also, he couldn’t complain when he had a stunning woman with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen complimenting him.  
But that positive impression of her was quickly replaced with the opposite.  
The ginger drummed his fingers on the wood again. He looked at the watch on his left wrist. Again.

20:45

That was it. Forty fucking five minutes late. He was annoyed. She annoyed him and Ed Sheeran didn’t get annoyed easily.  
He stood up, picked up his guitar case and threw it over his shoulder.  
He was tired as fuck and all he wanted to do was drink some hot tea, slip in his onesie and sleep all week long.  
He was ready to open the door and exit when a hand from the other side of the wall opened it first.  
And there she stood, shorter than he remembered, with darker hair than he remembered and tears on her eyes that he definitely didn’t remember.

***

He didn’t know what to do. He had never been good at comforting people. Especially when it came to a girl crying. Especially when it came to a girl. Especially when he didn’t know the girl that well.

After she opened the door, she came in and he just looked at her for a few moments as she paced around the room while crying. He only started at her as she sat down on the couch and hid her face in her hands. After he had closed the door and placed the guitar case on the floor again, he quietly and slowly approached her. He sat down next to her, not too close, trying not to have any sort of physical contact. He played with his hands on his lap as he looked at the floor. He didn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t stand to hear her sobs anymore. He lifted his eyes from the ground and looked at her.

“Um…Are you okay?” he watched her as she nodded her head, but she didn’t stop crying. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head. “Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.”

She wiped her tears with her sleeve and stared into space. “No, no. I’m fine. Seriously. Completely fine.” tears appeared again in her eyes and soon the sobs began again too. He looked around, as if he was trying to find something to make her stop crying like a lollypop or a teddy bear like parents normally do to their kids when they cry. He then realized how stupid he was for even considering that. He rubbed the back of his head again.

What was he supposed to do? Maybe ask her about it?

“Um…You wanna talk about it?” she shook her head and he sighed, defeated.

Maybe you should rub her back or something.

Yeah, that didn’t sound like a bad idea.

He lifted his arm and placed it on her back. He then started to pat it awkwardly.

“Look, whatever’s going on, it will all get better. I promise.” Rubbing her back and those words seemed to have had a positive effect since she lifted her head. She sniffed and looked at him for a few seconds before smiling. He eyes puffy and red, still wet, with mascara smeared under them and he didn’t understand how she still managed to look stunning. Then, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He stayed still at first, not knowing what to do –he just never knew what to do when it came to people-. But then he returned the hug -because what else was he supposed to do?-, trying to ignore the effect her scent was having on him.

***

It’s safe to say they didn’t record or write anything that night.

After what seemed like an eternity of her crying, she finally stopped and managed to tell him about what happened. Apparently she and her boyfriend had a long ass fight –which explained why she was late- and she broke up with him. He told her that maybe that was a risky decision, that couples go through fights often and that they will probably go back together. She then told him that they didn’t act like girlfriend and boyfriend lately. That they distanced from each other and that they didn’t feel the same they did before -he didn’t understand how anyone could distance themselves away from her but whatever-.

They ordered a pizza and stayed up talking all night long.

It’s also safe to say he didn’t care about her being late anymore.  
***  
The next day, she was on the studio before him. She apologized to him for being late the day before and told him she wasn’t usual late when it comes to meetings.  
He nodded and told her that everything was okay.

That day he asked her if it was her first time writing a song. She laughed. She literally laughed at him and told him she’d written songs for as long as she could remember. He frowned.

The first writing session wasn’t as bad as he expected.

He thought that he would be the one doing all the writing and that she would barely collaborate with the lyrics but he was wrong.  
He could tell she was passionate about writing music. But not only was she excited to write. He was surprised to see that she wrote pretty good poetry. It was actually rather good. Not the bubblegum-type of lyrics people were used to hearing her sing.

“You know, your lyrics are pretty dark for such a young, small, bubbly girl.” He dropped the pencil on the table and stretched his arms over his head. She smiled brightly at him.

“Oh God, and you haven’t even met my on my depressed slash emo phase a few years ago.” She laughed and pulled her knees to her chest. He gave her a grin. Then her smile disappeared and looked at the paper with messy lyrics written all over in front of her. “I’m not good at writing happy songs. Actually,” she hesitated and he waited for her to go on. She laughed again but with no hint on humor. “When I first got my record deal, I showed up to the producers with this CD full of my demos. After listening to them, they told me they weren’t worthy. That they were too mature for the audience that I-well, they were aiming at. That they needed hits. Then they brought songwriters to help me write ‘happy’ songs…” she winced.”I wrote a good ninety nine percent of the album with the Jonas. It didn’t even feel like my album, you know? They literally threw my songs in the trash can. The songs that I wrote by myself, songs that I was proud of, my art… And they spit on them like it was the biggest piece of shit in the world. And the same thing has happened with the rest of my albums. But what the fuck was I supposed to do? I was only fifteen, it was my only opportunity to release an album and for people to hear my music. It pisses me the fuck off the fact that a lot of people think I don’t write or, even worse, that I can’t write.” He immediately felt guilty for thinking that himself. “Because I do… Fuck, if I weren’t able to express my past and my pain and my feelings through lyrics I don’t even think I’d be alive anymore.” She looked up at him and his eyes met hers. “You know what I mean?”

He did. Holy fuck, of course he knew what she meant. He knew what it felt like to be told to be someone else. He knew what it felt like to be told your music is shit. And now he hated himself for judging her without knowing shit about her.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

***

It wasn’t until the fourth writing session that he realized how much she was keeping inside. She showed up with a paper in hand.

“This is a song I started writing a few years ago then kind of lost inspiration and left it unfinished and I was wondering if you could help me out with it.” She sat down on the couch next to him and passed him the white paper. He started reading. It seemed like it was about a break up. About somebody hurting her and leaving her. It even looked like there was physical violence involved.

“Is this about an ex?” he looked up from the paper at her and she shook her head.

“It’s about my father.”

That was the second time she cried in front of him. That was the second time he comforted her. That was the third time he hugged her. Not because they were at an award show, not because he kind of had to. He hugged her because she needed a hug. He hugged her because he needed to hold her in his arms. Not because he wanted to let her know that everything was going to be okay but because he need to let her know that he was going to be there for her.  
That song was also one of the best songs that he had ever written before.

***

Ed found himself spending a lot of time with her. Not just in the studio. They went out to have lunch or grab dinner every now and then, they went to the movies or spent time in each other’s apartments watching ‘90s sitcoms.

Not only he realized what a funny and nice girl she was. He also realized that she was there to make him laugh or whenever he needed to talk. She started to get to know him even better than he knew himself and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

***

Ed fell in love with her voice on the first recording session.

He didn’t think he had ever heard such a beautiful sound in his whole life. The way she could get lost in the music, or portray her emotions yet still sing flawlessly was beyond amazing to him. She quickly became his favorite vocalist of all time. 

Sometimes he’d find her singing her songs, or random melodies she had in her head. .

After that, he found himself asking her to sing for him. At first, she told him that he was creepy after laughing in his face -God, he loved her laugh, even when she was laughing at him-. But then she started singing songs to him, like, new melodies she had in her head, random songs she wrote in the past, songs from her albums, songs that never saw the light except when she was with him, songs from other artists she loved… Until one day he found her singing one of his own songs.  
And he hated. No. He loved. No, he-fuck. He hated and loved the fact that she sang them better than anybody could ever dream, better than he could ever dream.

She always kept telling him how he was her favorite artist in the whole universe, how much she loved his music, how talented he was but it was every time she came up with a new clever lyric or every time he heard her singing when he wished he was as talented as she was.

***

It wasn’t long until he realized he had fallen in love with every little thing about her. From her sparkling brown eyes, to her silky hair, to the freckles on her cheeks, to her nose, to her full and pink lips, her laugh, her smile… He loved how she wasn’t like any of the girls he had met before. He just loved every bit of her. From head to toe. She was probably the most beautiful human being he had ever laid his eyes on. Inside and out.

***

They kissed for the first time three week after she cried in front of him for the first time.

He was happy to say it was her the one who kissed him. He was talking about- hell, he didn’t even remember what he was talking about because she interrupted him by taking him by the collar of his hoodie, getting on her toes and crashing her lips with his. The moment their lips met in a heated kiss he forgot about everything. He forgot about where they were and about who he was. He placed his hands on her curvy and full hips and pulled her towards him. Her lips were even softer than he ever dreamed and her tongue warmer and sweeter than he ever imagined. Quiet moans left her mouth as her hands explored his ginger hair.

He wasn’t that happy to say she pulled away and ran out of the studio without saying a word.

***

He couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t push away the feeling of her lips against his, her tongue against his, her small body against his bigger one.  
She didn’t show up the next day in the studio. He went home. He blamed himself. He hated himself. He drank his ass off that night and punched the kitchen’s wall. Needless to say, not only had he fucked up whatever he had with Demi, he had also fucked up his knuckles.

***  
Four days passed after the kiss and he hadn’t left his house, which quickly became a mess. There empty were pizza boxes, empty beer cans and empty cigarette packs all over the floor and he wore the same sweatpants and hoodie he did two days before. He was a mess too. He didn’t remember the last time he wasn’t drunk. Oh, yeah. Right. Four days ago.

He lifted his arms and realized he needed a shower. After sighing heavily he stood up and walked dragging his feet to the bathroom.

After taking a shower and changing himself to clean clothes he went back to the couch. He was about to open another beer can when the doorbell rang. He grunted and cursed under his breath. He opened the door, ready to rudely tell whoever was on the other side of the door to fuck off.

But he didn’t. He just started down at her, not knowing what to say –yet again-.

Apparently, she didn’t know what to say either, because she just looked up at him.

He let his eyes travel all over her. It looked like she didn’t have a lot of sleep either or at least the bags under her eyes said so. Her hair was a bit messy and he knew she didn’t brush it. She wasn’t wearing make up and she was wearing black leggings and a grey sweater. And even then, she looked breathtaking.  
They both stood there staring at each other. He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. With her lips. Again.

It was a desperate kiss and he responded the same way. He closed the door with his foot and slammed her back against it. She let a moan escape her mouth and wrapped one leg around his waist. She still tasted as good as the first time they kissed.

He pulled away roughly.

“No! You can’t just do that! You disappeared like you commited a fucking murder after kissing me and four days after you show up at my fucking door and have the fucking gut to kiss me again like nothing happened!” he was breathless. Maybe because of the kiss, or because he was shouting and speaking too fast or maybe he just needed to quit smoking.

She looked down and pulled her hair behind her ear. She was also breathless and her cheeks were red and he wanted to kiss her again.

“I know and I’m so sorry, it’s just…” she sighed and looked up to meet his eyes. “Look, you need to know that I’m a mess, okay? I’m a mess when it comes to decisions, I’m a mess when it comes to my career, I’m a mess when it comes to relationships… Before I got to meet you, I wasn’t in a very good place. And then when Wilmer and I broke up, you…You didn’t even know me but you were there. You were so awkward,” she laughed softly ”but you tried to make me feel better. And you did. Then we started to spend more time together and I started to feel something… I still don’t know what it is. But if I kissed you was because I wanted to, because I felt like kissing you. I ran away because… All of my past relationships have been a mess because I fuck up. I always fuck up. But I like you. I really, really like you… After I kissed you I thought that I shouldn’t have done that, that I was going to fuck our friendship. I thought… I thought that I was gonna fuck you up. I hurt people. God, I’ve hurt so many guys, Ed, you have no idea. And I don’t ever want to hurt you. I really don’t.” she waited to see his reaction but his face was emotionless. “So… Yeah, I’m sorry… Again.”

“So, you like me?” he spoke after a few seconds that seemed like hours. She frowned and put her hair behind her ear again.  
“Yeah.”

“Like, really, really like me?” She smiled at him.

“Like, really, really like you.”

“Cool.”

Then, he pulled her by the waist against him and kissed her again and again and again.


End file.
